


Do you Remember your First?

by Yueira



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Before a Fateful Marriage, Cute Kids, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yueira/pseuds/Yueira
Summary: You know what else brings people together? Weddings. Even Orlesian-themed ones. And this was one event that none of the nobles were going to miss. A momentous first meeting for many, and we all know where it went from there. Follow our favorite children around Redcliffe!*Re-uploaded from FF, trying to resurrect the abandoned fic haha





	1. Your first real party

The boy watched the streamers flutter in the breeze from his loft, the bright pinks, blues, purples, reds of these looked so merry as even more people flooded the place for the wedding. Isolde was finally marrying Arl Eamon. And just as expected,  _he_  wasn't invited. It was not like he cared or anything— at least he had a free rein for the day—no one would pay any attention to him as far as he knew. He just wished… that they'd save some cake for him.

The icing on that largest one had looked most scrumptious.

* * *

 

"I'm bored." The little girl whined, careful to keep her voice low amid the throng of nobles. Her Mother and Father were off somewhere in that mix, mingling, speaking of the most boring things that the adults could come up with.

She wished that she had been left at home. The new  _mabari_  puppies were coming soon, and she did not want to miss the birthing. Elissa rather hoped that Fergus and her could secretly imprint one before Mother had a chance to protest.  _She_  didn't like the smelly things very much. Elissa loved the way the dogs smelled. Sure most of it was doggy, but it was familiar—although a tad wet. They reminded her of  _home_ —of what Ferelden meant to her. They were also the reason why their tutor had been pleased with her last composition. She had written about Chance—their full grown  _mabari_  who was about to become a father himself.

At least Fergus was here. He was similarly dazed by the sheer size of the crowd, and both of the young Couslands were glad that none of the nobles had deigned to approach them to comment on how their outfits were. Some of these ladies terrified him with their garish makeup.

"Me too… but we're supposed to be close by, as Father's moral support." He kept his voice low too, and clutched at his sister's hand. He really did not like how loud these people were.

But still Elissa murmured. "But… can I at least go see the horses? I'll be quick— they're in the stables—and that's so near the main yard."

She was itching to get away from this place. She preferred the horses to these people; at least  _they_  smelled better than the odd scents the nobles used. Some of these richly-dressed people did not look very happy, although weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions. Nobles rarely looked happy anyway, Elissa thought privately.

Her brother turned and gave her a dirty look. "And what about me?"

He seemed slightly anxious, but that was to be expected. Elissa knew how he felt about masses of people. Her brother would very much prefer to be left tumbling in the dirt, training with his (wooden) sword and shield. He wanted to be a warrior.

"I guess… you can come too…" She hadn't really thought of that. Anything, to get away from the stifling heat. The little girl also realised how unhappy she sounded at the thought of being accompanied, and was relieved that her brother only smiled, squeezing her hand gently.

"I'll keep watch for you here—tell them that you've gone to the privy." This was why she loved him. He always understood. She promised that she would be back soon. She could not leave him on his own for long. Fergus looked too handsome in that green velvet for his own good, she snickered privately. Most of these ladies would no doubt want to introduce him to their own little girls back home.

"I'll be quick. I'm just taking some apples to them." She let go of his hand—reaching behind them and counted off five of the reddest apples she saw. They were huge, and were all she could carry. The horses would have to share.

Her brother laughed, waving her off, turning his watchful eyes back to the adults. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied, still. "Be careful with your dress— or you'll have to wear that purple one."

She made a face at him—they both knew the dress. It was a ghastly taffeta—one that she had resisted all her parents' efforts to make her wear. Father had said she looked absolutely wonderful in it—almost a princess—he had added, but Elissa only shook her head. She did not want to be a princess. She wanted to be his 'Pup'. The muted blue dress she had on was her favourite, still. Looking around, Elissa inched beneath the long tables, turning her attentions back to sneaking out of the hall with her arms full.

The apples which she had gathered into her arms thankfully did not spill—though they threatened to escape her grasp—and Elissa found all the ducking and dodging between the tall people quite exciting. None of them even turned to look at the small figure squeezing past, so focused they were on their inane banter. Elissa owed her skill in stealth to all those nights she crept out of her room (they had only recently begun sleeping in different quarters) and into Fergus's where she would kip out on the spare bed—she missed the sounds of his snoring— those lulled her to sleep where mere sheep-counting couldn't.

Even the men in shiny armour did not seem to have noticed a young girl, small as she was, slip out through the heavy doors, clutching the five red apples like the small treasures they were.


	2. Your first real Friend

He wasn't dozing, he had just closed his eyes for a few long moments, dreaming about… A family.

And food. Mostly food.

Alistair had not eaten anything for a whole day, not even breakfast. Everyone had seemed so busy, dashing about from place to place, hurriedly getting things in order for Arl Eamon's bride. Alistair felt embarrassed to even approach the cook, who had a soft spot for the boy— his own hunger would only distract kind old Farrah from her preparation for the hundred strong nobles who would swoop down upon Redcliffe.

Like big ugly eagles with claws for feet, huge wingspan, bulging eyes, balding heads— oh wait—those weren't eagles, were they? Some nasty bird anyway.

He didn't like nobles, except for Eamon and his brother. Alistair had heard stories about how spoilt rotten they were, and this was only proven by the horrid children who came along with their parents every month or so, priggish boys and spiteful girls who had nothing nice to say to him. Yes, Alistair was content remaining where he was, in the loft, with the horses and hay. He was not hungry anymore. No. At least, that was what he hoped his body would believe. But it wasn't working, much. _Sigh_.

He tried to whistle, hoping that the pangs would stop, but couldn't. His lips were too dry. Great, now he needed something to drink too. He had had almost made up his mind to leave the stables, when a small sound of the door creaking open froze his feet to the wooden loft. He knew that it couldn't be any of the servants, but remained hidden. He didn't want to be seen by the noble guests. They would no doubt find him disgusting.

Some soft cooing was heard, and the loud huffs from the horses told him that whoever it was, they had bought food for them. Alistair peeked over the railing, and almost fell when he saw a pint-sized girl, feeding the huge grey stallion half of a gleaming red apple. The girl had the darkest hair he had ever seen, curled into large ringlets, loose over her shoulders, bubbly chuckles erupting as she chastised the greedy horse which had tried to reach for the rest of her apples. Her blue dress was not plain, nor was it os- ostent- grand. She looked nice.

Seeing the small hill of fruit next to the girl being shared out among the animals, Alistair could not help but sigh again. To his alarm, this barely audible noise startled the girl, and she spun around with a muffled shriek. He tried to call out, tried to wave his hand in greeting, but only fell, having lost his balance, off the loft and onto a soft pile of hay below.

He felt like such a klutz, and remained lying there, prone, for a while— horribly embarrassed by his ridiculous antics and clumsiness. The noble child was probably going to laugh, derisively, at him—the stable boy with very bad balance. Alistair always resented that. He wasn't all that clumsy. Eamon had called him awkward—which he would soon grow out of. At least, Alistair had hoped that it wasn't permanent.

The 'whump' next to him was not expected, but when Alistair turned to stare at the girl, he found himself gazing into a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Whoever she was, she had joined him in the hay, motioning for him to remain still and be quiet with a finger on her lips. He assented with a nod, and the two of them huddled together behind the haystacks while she clutched at Alistair's sleeve, fingers trembling, just the little bit.

The two children sat in silence, ears straining, wondering what it was that had scared the little girl so. It was then the fanfare of trumpets was heard, and still more people entered the stable, bringing with them several more horses.

A great deal of jingling was heard, and then, mutters before the men left the stables. The girl immediately sprung up from next to him, squealing just a little bit when she saw the new horses. She didn't seem to be afraid around the towering animals. These were huge chargers, Alistair saw—bred for war—very expensive breeds. He  _knew_  who these belonged to. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore. And yet, his stomach protested. Loudly.

The girl turned, cocking her head to the side, curious.

"Have you not eaten?" She seemed genuinely concerned. Alistair shook his head, wishing that she would go away. He felt miserable.

She didn't leave. In fact, she came closer, even. "There's plenty of food indoors." Again, there was that faint note of worry.

"I can't go indoors. Not allowed to." Alistair found himself blurting aloud. He tried not to feel sorry for himself, but it was the truth. Isolde did not want to see him indoors, especially on this day.

"Oh… Okay, wait here." She had sounded so matter-of-fact that he found himself growing alarmed. He didn't really want her to leave. She had seemed nice.

"Wait—" he called after her, clutching at her hand. Too late—the door had swung shut, and the light tapping of her feet fled, away from the stables. He was alone again.


	3. Your first Adventure

Cailan had to admit, save for the occasional pretty girl, weddings were quite boring. No dastardly ex-suitor, no epic swordfight, just tables and tables of food and wine. Drunk noblemen. Heavily-powdered ladies. Booooring. His father was off again, receiving introductions, being all Kingly while Cailan stood at his side, smiling and saying the most perfunctory things, a wink here, a grin there—and the nobles lapped it up. It was only when the surliest person in the room—Loghain, approached them, that the large crowd scattered frantically. The man had a way with the masses.

"Ah Loghain, there you are." The adults met with the usual greetings, but all Cailan could see was the delicate flower of a girl, following in the man's stern wake. Cailan was perfectly aware that his father was saying something about him, but could pay no more heed—he was furiously thinking of the things to say to this new… development.

Whole sentences and their meanings eventually broke past the swoon that had captured Cailan's brain. "And this is your daughter? She is very lovely."

"Yes, this is Anora. Thankfully, she does not resemble me in the least," came the dry response.

"That is fortunate. But I jest, she has your eyes." His father the King was certainly joyful today despite his earlier grimness, Cailan noted.

The girl curtseyed, her soft sapphire eyes catching his own in a shy gaze. Cailan suddenly found it hard to concentrate, much to the further amusement of the adults around them.

"And I'm Cailan." He smiled, hoping that he had nothing stuck between his teeth, fervently wishing that he was more dazzling, in the presence of this beauty. Their fathers then wandered out of earshot, conversing in the far corner of the room, heartily aware that everyone was still staring at them, watching them carefully.

The girl giggled, unable to help herself, as soon as they were somewhat alone. Their situation was most... amusing, he supposed. It sounded like the faint tinkling of bells, not guffaws like some of the nobles made, nor the vague incessant tittering that secretly grated on Cailan's nerves.

"It sure is… lively, isn't it—Prince Cailan?"

He hurried to correct her, hoping to wow her with his graciousness. "Just Cailan will do. And yes, it is… busy. But terribly bothersome. Whatever are we all waiting for?"

Anora smiled, nodding faintly. "Yes, but all of this is… essential. Weddings are bothersome for all who are not directly involved."

Perhaps she was making a reference to their own engagement—decided by their parents since birth. Cailan didn't mind being married to her—she was so pretty—and as long as he didn't have to plan the thing.

"Yes, but we've nothing to do now. How… magnificently droll."

The pair of them walked, keeping to the edges of the party, careful not to draw attention to their somewhat stealthy advance to the quieter, less-crowded part of the room. There, they came upon children, and were somewhat relieved, the adults were tiresome. The youths appeared to be somewhat preoccupied in conversation.

"Hello—"Cailan began, only to startle both boys with his greeting. They looked around them warily. "Any interesting happening?"

"I guess you could say that." Said the one with close-cropped hair. "My sister's missing, and I can't find her. Nathaniel here won't let me."

The one with the longer locks shrugged, shaking his head in reply. "I didn't say you couldn't go. I just meant wait until your parents are sufficiently distracted—"

"The King is here with his son—I say that's enough distraction for any noble—" began the other one hotly. Cailan agreed, the swarm of people had evidently gathered in that part of the room. Anora gasped a little at the sheer rudeness of the little boy, though Cailan paid no heed. No one was looking in this direction. Not so soon, anyway. This would be a very good opportunity to slip away, unnoticed.

He offered his solution, as evenly as he could—it was pretty clever, if he did say so himself.

"You could leave now. No one's paying attention to us." Cailan secretly wanted to follow these two—at least some adventure could be said to be had at Redcliffe. But he appeared to have spoken too soon—his absence had been noted, and quickly rectified with the swift advance of courtiers, who were going to escort him and Anora back to his father's side.

"There you are, Prince Cailan, Lady Anora."

Both boys stared at him, their surprise evident. Some embarrassment was felt, for they were both blushing terribly at their previous behavior. Their respective parents were also approaching, seizing on the chance to introduce their own children to the royal family. The boy who had been looking for his sister paled slightly, before murmuring some choice words under his breath.

"Oh—pooh." He puffed out his cheeks, before trying to look as innocent as possible. _Nathaniel_ only affected penitence, his feet tapped the ground with some impatience.

Cailan liked both of them _,_  even if they were a bit younger—and he would devise something to allow them all to go find this one's sister. No one would mind the Prince's little harmless whims.


	4. Your first 'crush'

Prior to that interruption however, Nathaniel had an encounter. One he wished to repeat. It was apparent that a new arrival was causing the stir—a huge commotion in the hall— the fanfare of the royals unmistakable. No one but him seemed to have noticed that a young girl had slipped back towards the buffet, no one seemed to have noticed her entrance quite as acutely as he did.

It was Lissa—well—Elissa Cousland. They had played together rather often, whenever his father visited Redcliffe. Both Couslands were fun. They had many adventures together, getting into trouble during most of them, but it had all been worth it. And Nathaniel felt himself to be somewhat… captivated, by little Lissa, though Father disapproved.

And here she was, at the same hideously boring event, dressed in her favourite dress. She seemed deep in thought, stopping in front of the tables of food, eyeing them quite closely. She appeared to care not for the new arrival, and a determined expression crept onto her face. Nathaniel stepped, as silently as he could, as close as he could—just as he watched her fingers close around a large, silver tray.

" _Stealing_  food, Lissa?" He whispered, not inaudibly. She jumped, and almost flipped the platter onto the floor. He steadied her hand, and only a single breadroll escaped the table.

Her green eyes shot up to his own, evidently startled. She then glanced at the dish she still held, before muttering something softly. Nathaniel could barely make out the words. "I was… hungry."

"But the  _whole_  plate of bread?" He was smiling at her, amused. She was a terrible fibber, though he wondered why she bothered—she knew he could be trusted. He never once gave her away during a game of guard and prisoner. Fergus was always the guard. He had the heaviest footsteps among the three of them.

She murmured again, evidently eager to get away. "I'm going to eat elsewhere; I don't like the other nobles."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, but nodded gravely. He didn't like the nobles either. He was rather, more concerned that Elissa was lying quite so much today, though he supposed that it was none of his business. He also noticed that he wasn't invited to follow her, and that fact unsettled him too.

He gently unlatched her fingers from the heaping plate of bread—if she was going to eat elsewhere, it had better not be something quite so noticeable. Something less likely to be missed. Something that has not been touched since the first arrivals. His eyes chanced upon the perfect thing. The Orlesian cheese platter. No one would miss that.

Leading the girl behind him, he slipped that off the table, before taking a few rolls of buns for good measure. Cheese always went well with bread. Elissa took these from him as he handed them to her, evidently much happier. She smiled most radiantly, before remarking on how clever he was. She did appear less than enchanted by the smell coming from the plate.

"Thanks, Nathaniel. You're a lifesaver." What an odd choice of words. He wondered if he should follow her, just in case. But she seemed quite determined to leave.

Nathaniel remembered something. "Wait, Lissa—" He stopped her as quietly as he could, before placing a goblet full of what he deemed to be grape juice, setting this down gently on the tray she still held. "In case you get thirsty. Are you sure you don't need my help?" The girl only shook her head, slipping out—leaving him with only a  _"Thanks"_.

She appeared to be quite in a hurry, and though Nathaniel was only a child, he knew that her parents would search for her soon— no doubt wanting her to meet the King and Prince Cailan, perhaps impress everyone with her beauty. He resolved that it was up to him to delay that, for her sake. No matter. He was getting to be rather good at feigning ignorance, having learned quite a bit of that from Thomas and his incessant tattling.


	5. Your first brush with 'death'

Fergus knew that the business of steering clear of his parents was up—that he had to face them both sooner or later, though he would rather this confrontation came later. Much later. Perhaps not at all, even. And then there was the matter regarding the prince; the little boy allowed that his manner had been unspeakably rude in Cailan's presence.

Sure enough, the first thing his parents did was to introduce him to his Royal Highness, all tall and blond. "Ah Prince Cailan, Lady Anora. I see you've met my son, Fergus." said his father, whose worried eyes searched his own.

Prince Cailan just seemed cheerful, not in the least offended by the circumstances that had made up their encounter. "Yes, we've met."

Lady Anora appeared slightly discomfited, unable to nod or reply with more than a cursory smile. This was then Fergus noticed the crowd that had crept up behind his parents; a mob of anxious eyes, annoyed glares, fans of hands that covered those spiteful, twisted sneers and blood-red gaiety of their lips. They had directed their collective hate at the poor girl, who looked about to cry.

The not-so-little boy wished that the prince would notice, and stop them. He knew the feeling of being stared at quite like that. Poor Anora.

Just then, the king swept into the crowd, parting them like a sea of monsters— his smiles and Teryn Loghain's presence cutting them in two. The great Hero of River Dane was certainly living up to his reputation. Fergus wanted to be like him, one day. A great warrior.

"I see that our children have already made themselves acquainted, Bryce."

His father smiled and nodded, though he still looked vaguely perplexed. Mother's eyebrows did that thin, arched query, and her eyes seemed aglow with a gathering storm. She was suspicious. As usual. He gulped, though thankfully, the king's presence would prevent her legendary temper.

"Both generations in the same place makes this a momentous event even without the wedding— although… Bryce, I do seem to recall that you had two children?" It was innocent enough, but that inquiry sent the little boy's stomach into little twists of anxiety

"Yes, your Majesty. This is Fergus. My daughter, however, appears to have—ah—  _escaped_ from the Hall." The little boy's father looked at him searchingly again, but it was his mother who asked the all-important question.

"Fergus, where is _your_ sister?"

Faced with this many adults, the little Cousland felt less-inclined to lie—but it had been the one thing that he had promised his sister. He only hoped that Prince Cailan could keep a secret.

"Privy." he mumbled. "Elissa needed to use the privy. It was… _quite_ urgent." None of them seem to have bought that explanation, and his mother especially so. Her lips pursed, before casting her steely gaze elsewhere, sweeping it through the hall. She always knew when they fibbed—though this was largely due to the fact that _both_ the Cousland children were terrible at lying.

Thankfully, King Maric's next questions drew everyone away, but not before giving him a knowing wink. His performance was evidently not in the least bit convincing, even to perfect strangers. Fergus suppressed an inward groan. He had embarrassed himself in front of the Hero of River Dane, as well as King Maric the Savior. But there were more important issues at hand; and Fergus had no wish to face his wrath mother without his sister again. Just where was Elissa Cousland?

He turned, slightly, and spotted Nathaniel, who was not having the best time of his life either—being nagged by his own parents for leaving their side—something about missing a rare opportunity. Thomas appeared to have told on him; again, the little imp was hiding behind his mother's skirts, unable to control his growing smile. There was no way Elissa would ever end up with that boy—not if Fergus had anything to say about it, despite Arl Howe's efforts with Fergus's own mother. Nathaniel's brother was a snitch, through and through.

Fergus then decided that he would find Elissa without Nathaniel's help. The latter had enough problems without getting into further trouble, though he rather suspected that his best friend rarely paid attention to the threats made by his parents.

And so, he approached the door, swiftly stepping past the people, praying to the Maker than he would remain out of his mother's line of sight. So far, so good. The king was providing a _really_ good distraction for them, the little boy saw. He had almost got to the entrance when a hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back behind yet another table. It was the prince; whom he glared balefully at— having ruined a perfectly good attempt at stealth.


End file.
